A View From Outside
by binx-349
Summary: To most people there are many, many things in life that are out of their control. In Emily’s life, there had only ever been one, Lorelai. LukeLorelai


Title: A View From Outside

Author: Binx349

Pairing: Luke/Lorelai

Summary: _To most people there are many, many things in life that are out of their control. In Emily's life, there had only ever been one, Lorelai._

A/N: This is AU, and set during 1x06 from Emily's POV, third person. I have fiddled things with the episode to make it work. It's supposed to be a little different. I like unusual. ;)

III

It was times like this that Emily Gilmore despaired. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd done in a previous life that had caused karma to bite her in the ass like this. To most people there are many things in life that are out of their control. In Emily's life, there had only ever been one, Lorelai.

From her first ignored curfew, to the pregnancy at sixteen, right up to the present day. In her eyes the girl was a wild card, you were never quite sure what you were going to get and it made her unexplainably nervous. The response to her daughter therefore, usually made her seem unfeeling, manipulative -- maybe, sometimes she is. She used it as a defence all the same.

Coming here hadn't been her idea. But here they were all the same. God knows why. She should have known better. Should have ignored the invitation, settled for just the Friday night dinner they had organised. It had been safe, planned. This was something else. It was dynamic.

There were so many people, people of such variety it almost made her dizzy. A flourish of colour adorned the walls, a banner proclaiming the occasion on the door. There was music, there was chatter, laughter. The whole house was buzzing with the kind of atmosphere she hadn't ever felt at any party.

It wasn't her place. It wasn't Richards place. He still managed to find his niche. After all, supply the man with reading material, and he would barely notice you were even

there. For her, it just wasn't that easy.

She heard Lorelai yell and frowned, the girl could be so crude sometimes. In the end this was all for Rory, so she chose not to call her on her language, or the noise, or the people.

The thing that made it worthwhile was the dazzling beam and bone-crushing hug from Rory the second she'd made it over the threshold. That was why she was here. She'd smiled, despite her discomfort, and sent a critical eye over the house, contents and company. As if they'd ever reach her standards. She wasn't sure she'd expected it to.

Lorelai certainly seemed reserved. Her surprise at their arrival had given way to a detached calm. She introduced her to a couple of people. They even seemed nice enough. No doubt they've heard tales. This is Lorelai after all. Can't keep her mouth shut for five minutes, let alone the years she must have known these people. She thinks it's a wonder they aren't looking daggers at her.

They can probably recall moments in her life better than she can. Lorelai brings up conversations they may have had fifteen years ago, as if they had happened yesterday with exaggerated language. She probably tells her stories the same way. They'll know. They must do.

The doorbell rings and Emily snapped her eyes up from her drink, following Lorelai as she leaves the kitchen. The awkward oafish man just stands there, a bag of ice dangling from each hand. Lorelai calls out something about the ice to her chef friend. Sookie, was it? She had the number on a scrap of paper in her pocket, but wasn't about to dig it out just to check.

She smile that spreads across her face is one of kind, to Emily in any case. It's one she doesn't think she's ever seen before. Ice man lifts one of the bags and shrugs, he's suppressing a grin that is fighting to escape the confines.

Lorelai walks up to him boldly flinging her arms around his neck, pressing herself up against his body as if she does it every day. There's something so natural about the whole exchange, the moment between the two playing out before her eyes.

She clutches her wine glass, watching the action from as little as 5 feet off, but it's as if she weren't even there to them. The gleam in his eyes shines like a beacon, and it's then she knows. She's missing something here.

Lorelai turns and the beam slips from her face, like she's been caught with her hand firmly in the cookie jar. It was a look Emily had seen many times before. When she came home early and found a boyfriend hidden in a closet, or when she found an empty tequila bottle in her room. It was every disappointing moment. She saw that face each time she found out something Lorelai would have much rather kept firmly under wraps. This was something she really wasn't supposed to have seen.

She introduces the ice man to Emily as a 'friend', although the sentiment doesn't quite ring true. The tension in the room is bumped several notches. Emily doesn't get uncomfortable, it simply isn't in her. They however both look a little awkward at having her view whatever moment it was they just shared.

They exchange brief pleasantries, if you could call them that. Ice man falters a little, and excuses himself quickly, leaving her alone with her daughter again. It isn't any better once he's left. Lorelai just rolls her eyes, and makes her way back to the party without a word. The fact she can't even be honest, can't even talk about it, speaks volumes.

Emily follows her and sits listening to the stories, marvels at all the people, people with such unique insights on her granddaughter. They _know_ her. In a way she probably never will. She would never blame herself for that. In her heart perhaps she knows it was her fault, but her head overrules. Her head tells her that Lorelai was an unruly child, a rebellious teenager. She'd done her damage and run, taking their only granddaughter with her. She was only now beginning to realise what it was she had missed out on all these years.

Not wanting to sit and listen to the stories any more, Emily stood. She made her way upstairs and out of the way. Walking into the room she ran a hand along the quilt on the bed. Lorelai spoke from the doorway, and it was only then that she realised her daughter had followed her. She shouldn't be surprised really. She had never exactly been one of the trusted people.

Emily nods, questions her on the people she'd met downstairs. She hates not knowing, being out of the loop has never sat well with her.

She brings up the man with the ice. Luke. Surreptitiously watching, waiting for a reaction. She isn't disappointed.

There's that 'just a friend' line again. She should get a tape recorder, or a parrot. Tape recorder is less maintenance, and easier to train. She should go for that option.

She is blunt, always has been. She said he'd looked at her like she was going to give him a lap dance, because he was. Simple as that.

The smile that grew unbidden on her daughters face tells her all she needed to know. She's happy. She likes the idea of giving this strange man a lap dance, or if not that, she certainly likes him looking at her in that way.

Lorelai makes a joke, brushes it away as usual. It's more than that, and Emily knows it. When Emily knows it, it must be true.

Her suspicion is only confirmed a couple of hours later. She sits in the front seat of the car, and watches Rory go back into the house in the rear-view mirror. Richard is busy fumbling with keys, fiddling with the height of the seat. God knows why. It hasn't changed on its own in the last two hours, that's for sure.

She doesn't have the best view but still, she knows what she sees. The man is there again, walking out the side-door, a trash bag slung over his arm. How very domesticated she has him. Lorelai hops out after him just a couple of seconds later, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He dumps the trash and makes his way back up onto the decking where she stands.

Lorelai is the only one of the two who seems to be talking, not surprising really, that is her style. Ice man just looks bewildered, then despairing. Wow, does she know that feeling.

When she steps in her hand slides up his stubbled cheek, and she presses her lips against his, Emily can't help but keep watching them. She's a closet curtain twitcher, although she'd never admit to it. Something rivets her eyes to the scene, she doesn't think she really wants to see it, but likes the idea that her suspicions will be confirmed.

Lorelai stepped back, apparently waiting for something. It wasn't what Emily had expected. It wasn't the comfortable kiss of an established couple. It was a testing of the waters, plain and simple. It was a question. Can I do that? Does it feel right? Will you hate me for it? All that rolled into a simple unequivocal action. She shouldn't be watching, and yet can't bring herself to stop.

The light in his eyes is back, Emily can see it even from where she is. When their lips join again the kiss has nothing of the tentative question that was there before. His arms are tight in the small of her back and her fingers are roaming the back of his neck.

They break apart for a brief moment, where Lorelai appears to say something. Then it's back to this heated union. On a porch, it's so undignified. Then again, this is Lorelai. It seems ridiculous to Emily, laughable even. She basically pushed them together. She supposed that it would happen eventually. But, Lorelai had been telling the truth with her 'just friends' line. Huh, first time for everything.

Richard says her name, as she watches this, Luke, pressing her daughter into the railings of the porch. Emily frowns at the sound of his voice, tearing her eyes away.

"She's right. I don't know my daughter at all. We should go. Traffic."


End file.
